Sight unseen
by quiller
Summary: A train crash leads Scott to break one of IR's strictest rules Complete story
1. Scott

Author's preamble: This, my 9th story so far, has probably taken more time, and given me more trouble, than all the rest put together. I owe a big debt of thanks to Mad-Friend. Thank you, my friend. You have read so many versions of this story that you must be sick and tired of it by now. You pointed out all the weak spots, ruthlessly dragged my style back when I strayed from my chosen format, and above all, helped me to get inside Scott's head. You have been so much help. I almost feel I should be citing you as joint author. So thank you - you are not at all mad (unless we all are) but you are most certainly a friend.  
  
Standard disclaimer: I acknowledge Carlton plc as the owners of the 'Thunderbirds' characters, and I thank Gerry Anderson and his team for creating them and giving us so much pleasure.  
  
All dates and ages based on Chris Bentley's 'Complete book of Thunderbirds'  
  
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Scott  
  
Private diary - Not to be read by anyone else - Especially YOU, Gordon  
  
16th January 2071  
  
I was talking to John last night and he suggested I try writing a diary as a way of sorting out what's going on in my head. I'm not used to doing this sort of thing - I'm the action man, I leave the introspection to John, but if it will help, then here goes.  
  
How should I begin? Well, I suppose describing how it all started might help.  
  
It was only a week ago - somehow it seems longer - that we were called out to help at a train crash in the Rockies. A goods train had collided with a passenger train, and some of the passengers were trapped in the wreckage. Because of the remoteness of the site and its location in a narrow gorge, the ordinary rescue services were having trouble lifting some of the wreckage, so had called on us. To make matters worse the goods train had been carrying some type of flammable liquid, and one of the containers had exploded on impact, sending a blast of heat through the passenger carriages. By some miracle the other containers had not ignited, but a lot of the passengers were badly burned.  
  
We had freed most of the passengers, but one carriage - it had been the dining car - was still pinned under one of the containers. Our infra-red detectors were no good except at close range because of the heat still left by the explosion so one of us had to crawl into the wreckage to see if it contained any survivors. Alan was helping Virgil operate the grabs in Thunderbird 2, Gordon was away that week at an oceanographic conference, so that left me.  
  
I inched my way through the twisted metal, for once wishing I had John's slim build, until I saw the first victim. Sometimes I wonder if we could have saved people if we had got to a rescue quicker, but this guy had obviously been killed outright in the initial crash - a piece of metal had gone right through him like a spear. Moving on, I came to another guy. This one was alive, but unconscious and badly burned. I decided there was nothing more I could do for him at the moment and moved forward until I came to a mass of twisted metal that not even a cat could have got through. "Is anyone there?" I called out, "Can anyone hear me?"  
  
Then I heard this female voice, laden with fear and pain, say "Thank God, I thought no-one would ever find me in here". I tried to get through the barrier but could only succeed in getting one arm through. I felt someone grasp my hand. I shone my torch through another gap. Its beam fell on a dark-skinned young woman lying on her side, with one leg pinned under a mass of twisted metal. One side of her face and body was a mass of angry red blisters where the heat had hit her, burning away the hair that on the other side of her head fell in rich black waves.  
  
Her voice had sounded slurred, like someone who'd had a few drinks too many. I realised she was probably in shock and on the point of losing consciousness. I had to try and keep her talking. She told me her name, Elizabeth Bach, like the musician.  
  
Just then Virgil contacted me on my wristcomm to see if I had found any survivors. I reported in the two I had found already, asking Elizabeth if there had been anyone else in the carriage at the time of the crash, but she said most had gone back to the passenger carriage because there was a movie just starting, leaving only her and a couple of guys. Virgil told me they were going to have to drain the tank above us before moving it, as it looked too fragile to lift in its present condition - there was a risk of it breaking in mid-air and dowsing us all . I shuddered at the thought of that flammable liquid pouring down on us. I told Virgil I was going to stay in the carriage and keep an eye on these people. I wanted to go back and take another look at the unconscious guy, to see if there was anything I could do for him, but when I let go my grip on Elizabeth's hand she pleaded "Scott? Is that your name?" (She must have heard Virgil talking to me) "Please don't leave me, Scott! I'm scared."  
  
I promised her I would return in a few minutes, and left the torch so she wasn't in the dark. I must have spent the best part of an hour inside that carriage, mostly with my arm stretched through the gap in the metalwork, with Elizabeth holding my hand. Every time she seemed to be drifting off into unconsciousness I would ask her another question to pull her back. She told me about her job, her childhood, music - she likes jazz too -anything I could think of.  
  
Eventually Virgil signalled that he was ready to lift the tank. There was a roar of jets as Thunderbird 2 hovered above us, then, moments later the shriek of tearing metal. Elizabeth's grasp on my hand became even tighter.  
  
Suddenly bright light and fresh air poured into our prison. The shrill sound of cutting equipment was heard, and after a few moments I was able to stand up and stretch my cramped muscles. By the light of the floodlights that now illuminated the crash site (I hadn't realised that it had got so dark) I pointed to where the unconscious man lay, and one group of medics moved to that spot, while another worked round Elizabeth. "Scott!" she called out "where are you?"  
  
I bent over her and squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her that she would be OK now, before the medics whisked her off to one of the waiting ambulances.  
  
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The following day I was giving Virgil a hand greasing the suspension on Thunderbird 2. That's a big job, and we had stopped for a coffee break. Virgil made some crack about the fact that Gordon was due home that afternoon, and we would be able to tease him some more about 'La belle Nicole'. Normally I join in the ragging - heaven knows, I've been on the receiving end of enough of Gordon's jokes over the years, it's nice to be able to retaliate. We're all sure he wouldn't go to half these conferences if he didn't fancy a French marine biologist. This time, however I didn't respond - all morning I had been thinking of Elizabeth, all alone in that hospital. I kept thinking about when Gordon had his accident - he had one or other of us dropping in to see him every few days, but she had no-one. I'd had time to hear most of her life story while the others were getting ready to lift that tank. Her father had walked out when she was small, her mother died a couple of years ago, and she didn't have any brothers or sisters. There had been a boyfriend, but she dumped him when she found he was two-timing her. She doesn't even have a proper home - she works in hotel catering, and usual lives in the hotel where she works. She moves around every few years, and was on her way to a new job in Denver when the crash happened. I don't understand how some people can survive like that - it makes me appreciate just how lucky I am to have a family like mine.  
  
Virgil suggested that I ring the hospital and find out how she was doing to put my mind at rest. I tried to protest - after all we're not supposed to have any contact with the people we rescue - Dad would do his nut if he found out.  
  
So then Virgil proposed that we choose a time when Dad wasn't around - he even offered to keep watch for me. (See what I mean about appreciating my family?) He suggested I should just say I had been on one of the rescue crews - there were certainly enough of them there.  
  
I rang the hospital that I knew the medical crew had come from, only to find she had been transferred to the specialist burns unit at Reno. They gave me the number and I rang there. When I had been put through to the appropriate ward and asked about Elizabeth Bach a female voice (I had made sure the call was voice-only) had said "Are you Scott? The boyfriend?"  
  
That surprised me a bit, but I replied that I was Scott.  
  
The nurse then told me that Elizabeth been calling for me, crying out in her sleep, 'Don't go, Scott, don't leave me'. The nurse sounded a bit hostile, so said I would try to get to see her in the next couple of days.  
  
Virgil, who had been listening to the call was a bit taken aback, but. what else could I do? She needed me, she hadn't got anyone else. Alan was here, so he could cover for me. I reckoned if I took the fighter I could be there in a few hours, and back within the day. I'd just tell Dad I was spending a day on the mainland.  
  
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I thought I'd had my fill of hospitals after Gordon's crash, but here I am, back inside one again. When I got there it wasn't at all like I'd expected. I was shown to where she was lying in a dimly-lit side room. The nurse explained that the burns on one side of her face had actually burned away her eyelid, so the light was kept low and her other eye bandaged as well while the regeneration gel worked to grow the new skin. She's lying there, with a frame keeping the covers from touching her skin, the whole left side of her face and body covered in a pale green gel which has a network of tubes running from it to some sort of nutrient drip, presumably to feed the new skin. She can move her right arm, but that's about it. Most of the time with all the medication she's being given, she's only semi- conscious. I sat there holding her hand, just talking to her now and again whenever she seemed to be awake. I don't see how Dad could mind that - it's not as if I'm telling her any of our secrets.  
  
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	2. Elizabeth

Elizabeth  
  
Scott's been to see me four - or is it five? - times now. Sometimes I'm not sure. My head's been so muzzy with all the drugs I've been given for the pain that sometimes I think he's there, but I'm just imagining it. It's hard to keep track of time in the dark like this. The staff keep reassuring me that my sight is OK, that I just have to stay in the dark and not try to use my eyes until this eyelid regrows, but it's hard, very hard.  
  
On one of his visits, Scott brought me this radio/disc player and a stack of jazz discs. I don't remember telling him I liked jazz, but he seems to like it too, and we have quite a few favourites in common. I only realised the other day that the machine also has a 'record' function, so I'm going to try using it as a diary to keep some track of the days. One of the nurses brought me in some blank discs to use.  
  
I'm feeling a bit more lucid now anyway, now my medication has been reduced. They took the stitches out of my right leg yesterday, where it had been trapped in the crash, so now I can move that side of me a bit more freely.  
  
One time I had been telling Scott about when I had worked in Miami, and gone swimming with dolphins. The next time he came I felt him put something into my hand - it was a little dolphin that he had carved from a piece of driftwood. Did he tell me he lived by the sea? I can't remember. With all the drugs I'm still a bit hazy - he must have told me all sorts of things about himself, but I can't remember the details - he certainly seems to know a lot about my life.  
  
I never know quite when he is coming, but it seems to be every three or four days. The first I know is his voice from the doorway saying "Elizabeth - it's me, Scott" - as if he needs to say who is. I'd recognise that voice anywhere - it's the one thing that kept me from having hysterics when I was trapped in that wreckage. He's got a lovely voice, soft and gentle, but rich and deep, like dark brown velvet.  
  
He came again today, and this time he brought his guitar. He played me a beautiful piece that he says is called 'Cavatina'. I'm lying flat because of all the tubes on my skin, and at one time he said bending over to talk to my was making him uncomfortable, so he' s taken to sitting on the floor beside the bed, so our heads are almost level. I like that as it means from where I am lying I can reach out and touch him.  
  
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	3. Scott

Scott  
  
27th January  
  
It's long after midnight but I don't seem any nearer to getting any sleep, so I thought I might as well write some more of this wretched diary. God, this is hard work. It's all right for that brother of mine, words come easily to him - five books to his name and he's only just turned thirty. It's taken me half an hour just to write four lines. Writing it doesn't seem to be helping one bit, either. All it's doing is making me realise how confused I am. Managed to talk to John this afternoon while Dad was giving Virgil a thrashing at tennis. (How come it's always John we all go to when we have girl trouble?) Was trying to explain to him how I felt about Elizabeth - not very easy, because I don't understand it myself. Anyway John came up with the idea that the reason I feel differently about Elizabeth to how I've felt about other girls is because she's got me on my weak spot. The type of girl I'm usually attracted to - the ones at college, or in the Air Force - were all very confident, self-assured people. He says after taking care of my kid brothers for more than twenty years now, I've got what he calls a very well developed protective reflex. His theory is that Elizabeth is arousing that response., which is why it feels so different. All I know is that I just can't stop thinking about her - when I'm not with her I'm either thinking about conversations we had on my last visit to the hospital or planning when I can slip away to see her again.  
  
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	4. Elizabeth

Elizabeth  
  
I've just had a session with Angela, the physiotherapist. I'm sure that woman hates me, the way she pulls me about. Last time Scott arrived I had just had a treatment, and I'm afraid I was a bit grumpy with him, moaning about how much I loathed it. He was very sympathetic, squeezing my hand and saying " I know it's not exactly pleasant but it's got to be done. Otherwise by the time the gel is removed and you're ready to get out of bed you'll be too weak to move."  
  
He seemed to know a lot about it, so I asked if he was talking from personal experience. He hesitated before replying, but then said. "No, it didn't happen to me, but to someone I'm close to". After that he quickly changed the subject. I'm starting to notice this as a pattern. He's very open and warm and friendly, until I ask him something about himself, then he gets all evasive, as if he doesn't want me to know anything about him. Maybe he's playing hooky visiting me - he's got a wife and kids somewhere and he doesn't want me coming round once I'm out of hospital. Why does that idea upset me so much?  
  
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	5. Scott

Scott  
  
31st January  
  
Came back from visiting Elizabeth again this afternoon. She's a lot better now, much more alert. She's not so scared now, but I think she feels very restricted being confined in that bed, in the dark, unable to move very much. We talk about music, movies, places she's been, things she's seen. It's getting harder to evade her questions - she's a very intelligent and lively person, and has a wicked sense of fun - I love to hear her laugh, she's got a lovely laugh - sort of deep and fruity..  
  
Tried to tell her today that I might not be able to come again for a while. Couldn't really explain it was because Alan was going up to the station tomorrow for his month's turn of duty. It's not that John couldn't fly Thunderbird 1 if he had to, of course he could, but I would have to come up with a pretty good excuse to explain to Dad why I needed him to. Over the years since we started operations we seem to have fallen into a pattern that Alan covers for me on Thunderbird 1, so I always arrange all my trips away from the island, whether business trips or r&r. for the months when he's around. Dad's probably wondering already why I've had so many days away from the island this month. He probably suspects there's a girl involved somewhere - something he usually turns a blind eye to - it's only if he knew how I met this particular girl that he'd blow his stack. Then this evening John called. He said he was in the middle of some observations, and would Alan mind if he stayed up there another month? Of course Alan agreed, but we are doing a supply run up to him tomorrow to take him some fresh food - with strict instructions from Grandma not to eat any of the cakes or cookies on the way!  
  
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1st February  
  
Well, I have got to have two of the best brothers a guy could want. When we got to the station, Alan had asked if I wanted to come in a say hi to John, and see what he was up to. I should have realised something was going on, from the gleam in his eye. When I went in I asked John what these observations were that he was working on  
  
He answered "Something that's never been seen before," looking like he was trying not to laugh.  
  
Then Alan chipped in, "It's called watching your big brother fall head over heels in love" It seems the two of them had cooked the whole scheme up between them, Alan calling John two nights ago, as he couldn't bear the idea of me kicking my heels on the island, unable to go to the hospital.  
  
I asked John if he didn't mind staying up here another month. He gave me a friendly shove on the shoulder and told me to go to my girlfriend, as she needed me more than they did. He added something which brought a lump to my throat "We Tracys look after each other."  
  
Don't you just love guys like that?  
  
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	6. Elizabeth

Elizabeth  
  
During Scott's visit this afternoon Simone, the nurse who looks after me most of the time, came in and asked if he'd like a coffee. All the nurses are very good about identifying themselves to me, but I always recognise Simone anyway because she's Australian.. After she had gone I said to him, "I think Simone fancies you. She told me the other day that she thought you were 'drop dead gorgeous'" I could tell that he was amused by this, but when I said I found it hard to comment as I could hardly tell her that I didn't know what he looked like, he was puzzled. "What do you mean?" he said "you saw me when we pulled you out of the wreckage." I tried to explain my recollections of that moment through a haze of pain and fear - bright lights, loud voices, and someone with dark hair and a blue uniform bending over me.  
  
I then went on to say that some of the nurses think I'm lucky to have him as my boyfriend. "I never actually told them I was your boyfriend" he put in quickly, "they just assumed that because you'd been calling for me." Then he told me that he had no objection to them jumping to the wrong conclusion - in fact he was quite pleased. At that point he took hold of my hand and kissed it. I felt my heart leap inside my chest - it was beating so loud I was sure he'd be able to hear it. Does this mean what I think it does? He kissed my hand again before he left. I can't kiss him, but I reached up and stroked the back of his neck as we said goodbye.  
  
Can you fall in love with a guy you've never seen?  
  
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I was hoping Scott would come today - he hasn't been for a few days. Then I started listening to the radio. A submarine had suffered an explosion and become trapped at the bottom of the North Sea, and a call had gone out for International Rescue. I followed the news every hour until it was announced that the survivors had been rescued. The reporter made some comment about 'the men from International Rescue in their blue uniforms'. Blue. An arm in a blue sleeve reaching into my metal prison. A figure in blue bending over me. And the man who wears that uniform, who doesn't tell me his last name, where he lives, anything about himself. Elizabeth Bach, are you the stupidest person on this planet or what?  
  
Our next conversation is going to be interesting.  
  
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	7. Scott

Scott  
  
8th February  
  
Well, the proverbial has hit the fan now, and that's for sure. This morning Dad had gone down to Thunderbird 2's hangar with Virgil and Brains to discuss some modifications, leaving me in charge in the lounge, so I took the opportunity to call John. His first question was to ask after Elizabeth  
  
I told him that she had worked out who I was. When I went to see her yesterday her first comment was 'It must be cold in the North Sea at this time of year'. I can't say I'm surprised I thought she'd work it out eventually: she's pretty bright. He asked what I was going to do now.  
  
Then I heard Dad's voice saying, "He's going to start by telling his father what the heck is going on" and I turned to see my father standing in the doorway, wearing the expression that means someone is in Big Trouble.. He'd come back to get some plans and had heard enough to realise that something was up. He broke the link with John, then proceeded to give me the sort of rollicking I hadn't had since I was a teenager (and come to think of it, that one had been over a girl as well). OK, I know I've broken one of our strictest rules, but when he started to say things like 'jeopardising the secrecy of the organisation' I felt I had to defend myself. I hadn't told her anything, I protested. She'd been all alone, and she'd needed me. If I never went to see her again, then all she would know was my name - she didn't even know what I looked like.  
  
To which Dad replied "Are you willing to do that - never see her again?" and I said "No! - that's the last thing in the world I want to do." Then I heard myself saying "It's all right for Alan - he's had his own girl lined up since they were both knee high, but what are the rest of us supposed to do? We're all going to meet a girl we want to settle down with eventually!"  
  
That seemed to halt him in his tracks. '"You're serious about this girl? You want to marry her?"  
  
"Yes," I replied, only realising as I said it that that was the truth.  
  
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It's now nearly midnight and I've come to a decision. I'm flying out to the hospital tomorrow morning and I'm going to tell Elizabeth how I feel about her. I don't know why it's taken me so long to realise that she's everything I ever wanted in a girl - beautiful, charming, intelligent, funny - I'm not usually that slow on the uptake. I just know that when I'm in her company. I feel more alive than I do at any other time - except possibly when I'm flying Thunderbird 1 - and I know that I want her by my side for the rest of my life.  
  
Should I ask her tomorrow if she'll marry me? Is it fair to ask her now, before she even knows what I look like? I know I'm not exactly unattractive to the opposite sex, but it's asking her to take a lot on trust. Suppose she doesn't like what she sees when the bandages come off? Suppose she turns me down? I'm pretty sure she feels something for me, but what if I'm wrong?  
  
Have I got the right to ask her to share the life I lead - the isolation, the secrecy, the constant danger? What if she doesn't like my family? (and much as I love them, even I can find them irritating at times) What if they don't like her?  
  
God, I haven't felt this nervous since I took off for my first rescue mission to save the Fireflash.  
  
Still, one good thing - at least I can stop writing this damn diary now.  
  
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	8. Elizabeth

Elizabeth  
  
I knew something had happened as soon as Scott came in today. He came over and kissed my hand like he normally does, but instead of sitting down I could hear him walking around the room. "What's the matter, Scott?" I asked him anxiously. "Is something wrong?"  
  
I heard him pace up and down. Being unable to read his expression only served to increase my fears. After what seemed like ages he started to speak "I've been breaking the rules by coming here to see you these past few weeks - did you know that?" "Well" I replied, trying to keep my voice light, "I didn't think you did hospital visits to all the people you rescued".  
  
I heard his footsteps slow. "Yesterday my" he paused as if looking for the right word "commander found out what had been going on."  
  
"Are you trying to tell me you've been fired or something?"  
  
He gave a short laugh, "No, he can't exactly do that. But we had a row that must have been heard all over the - base" (again that pause). He came over and I felt him sit down on the edge of the bed and take hold of my hand. "And in the course of that row, I realised something. I started coming here because you needed me. Now I don't want to stop coming, because I need you." Now the words starting coming out in a rush. "Elizabeth, I just can't stop thinking about you. My life changed when you took hold of my hand in that railway carriage. When I think of what could have happened there my blood runs cold. I've never been very good with words, but I think I'm trying to say that I'm in love with you."  
  
Yes! I could have shouted out loud, but managed to keep my voice level as I replied "Well I know I'm in love with you - I have been for a long time now".  
  
I felt the mattress shake - I think he must have struck it with his hand. "Dammit! I want so much to be able to put my arms round you, to kiss you, but I'm not allowed to touch you. I've got to wait until that damn gel comes off - and that won't be for what - another week?"  
  
"You'd kiss me when I'm half covered in green goo?"  
  
His voice was gentle and loving. "I stopped seeing that a long time ago. All I can see is the girl I love."  
  
I reached up and pulled him down towards me, until our lips touched, and we kissed. Maybe it's because I can't see that I'm now more aware of my other senses, but that kiss was like no other I've ever had - so soft, so gentle, yet so strong.  
  
You're one lucky girl, Elizabeth.  
  
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The bandages came off today and I can see! The world really is a beautiful place. The nurses clubbed together and bought me a bunch of flowers to celebrate, which was sweet of them. My skin has regrown, apart from a couple of small patches, but the doctor reckons a second, smaller application of gel later on will cure those as well. I've been allowed out of bed, and had a little walk around the ward. I feel a bit stiff, but at least I can move properly, so I suppose I ought to apologise to poor Angela for thinking badly of her. I wish I'd thought to ask Scott to leave me a photo of himself - I can't wait to see him now.  
  
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This has certainly been a day I'll remember. I'd asked the nurses to let me know if Scott arrived - after all, a girl wants to look her best, doesn't she? Simone had lent me some make-up, and a scarf to put over my head - the new hair on the burned side is still very short, so I look lopsided. Anyway, I was sitting up in bed reading when she slipped in the door. "He's here!" she said, and spent a couple of minutes helping me get ready before going back to the door and showing him in.  
  
He stood in the doorway, obviously a bit uneasy. "If I'd known I was going to be inspected I'd have worn something a bit smarter" he joked.  
  
"Do you think I care what you're wearing?" I replied, holding out my hand. "Come over here so I can get a good look at you." He came over and sat down on the edge of the bed while I got my first real look. Dark hair - yes, I knew that. Blue eyes - now that was a surprise - somehow I'd imagined them brown. Tanned skin - he must spend a lot of time in the sun.  
  
"Well? Will I do?" he said, in an amused tone.  
  
"Simone was right", I replied, "you are 'drop dead gorgeous'" I touched his cheek. "You never told me you had a dimple".  
  
He smiled, a lovely warm smile. "Well, if you think you like what you see I have a question for you." He took a deep breath. "Elizabeth, will you marry me? I'd have asked you last week but I thought you might like to see what you're getting first. I've got an English friend who has this saying about 'not buying a pig in a poke'"  
  
"What's a poke?" I asked.  
  
He paused, "Do you know, I haven't got the slightest idea, except that it's something you don't buy a pig in. Well - do you want time to think about it?"  
  
"No, I don't need to think about it. If you'd asked me last week I'd have said 'yes'. I fell in love with you long before I knew what you looked like."  
  
"I was going to, but I chickened out at the last minute - not something that happens very often to me, but then I don't ask girls to marry me very often, either.."  
  
He leaned forward and kissed me. Was it as good as the first time? No, better, because this time his arms were embracing me and I could put both my arms around him, feeling the strong muscles in his back as he held me tight. We stayed like that for a long time, before we began to make our plans.  
  
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It's been a long, eventful day, but I want to try and dictate it into my machine now, as I might not get chance again later.  
  
This was the day I was being discharged and Scott showed up, as we had arranged, but much to my surprise he had brought another girl with him. "This is Tin Tin" he introduced her, "She lives with us on the base."  
  
Tin Tin came over to me. "Don't worry," she whispered, glancing at Scott, "I'm not some sort of rival. I pointed out to Scott that if you'd lost all your luggage in the train crash you wouldn't have anything to wear, so I thought the two of us could do some shopping together - you know how hopeless men are when it comes to shopping."  
  
She was right of course. The clothes I was wearing had come from some hospital fund, and looked it. I'd wondered what I was going to do - whether this base of Scott's had some sort of store. Tin Tin gave me a hug. "I'm so pleased to meet you. I've heard so much about you from Scott". I started to warm towards this diminutive girl.  
  
So, having extracted a promise from Tin Tin not to let me get too tired, Scott returned to the hotel while Tin Tin and I spent the next few hours working our way round a department store. I wondered how I was going to pay for everything - I had yet to apply for new credit cards to replace those lost in the crash, but Tin Tin kept offering her own card, assuring me it was all taken care off. We finished of in the store's hair salon, where the hairdresser gave me a new style to disguise the lopsided look of my hair. When he had finished, I looked in the mirror and was more than pleased with the image that looked back at me.  
  
We returned to the hotel and went up to the suite where Scott was waiting. As we went in he stood up and gave a low whistle. "Two such beautiful girls! I hardly know which one to marry."  
  
"Well" laughed Tin Tin "it had better not be me or you'll catch it from someone else when we get home!" Just then a waiter brought in some coffee and cakes. "I thought you'd be hungry after all your shopping" said Scott, "so I organised some food."  
  
"You mean you are" Tin Tin retorted, swatting him on the arm. Her easy manner with him spoke of a long friendship.  
  
Suddenly it was all too much for me. I don't think I had cried at all since they pulled me out of the train, but now it was if a dam had burst and the tears came pouring out. All the weeks of tension, lying in the dark, wondering if I would ever be able to see, or even if I could, whether I would want to look in a mirror again, and the emotional roller-coaster caused by my relationship with Scott had obviously built up until it had reached breaking point.  
  
Scott moved towards me and tried his best to comfort me Trouble was, every time I looked at him all the fears and doubts I had came back and I started to cry afresh. Tin Tin took charge "Scott, I think we need some 'girl time' here." I heard her shoo him out of the room, ignoring his protests, then came back and put an arm round me. "Honestly, these Tracy boys," she muttered, "give them a perfectly normal emergency like the place catching fire, or the ceiling falling in and they'd know exactly what to do. Start crying and they're lost. Now then, honey, what's the matter?"  
  
"It's so silly" I managed to get out between sobs, "I should be so happy, but I'm scared. What if they don't like me on this base of yours? What if Scott decides he doesn't love me now I'm out of hospital? What if I want to leave?"  
  
"Well would you? Would you want to leave Scott?"  
  
I shook my head. "Well, there you are then. And you don't have to worry about Scott. The man's besotted with you. I knew something was going on when I found him sitting on the beach carving that little dolphin. And of course the others will like you." She paused. "Has Scott told you anything about us?"  
  
I shook my head. "I suppose he couldn't in the hospital." So then she called Scott back into the room and between them they told me about Jeff Tracy, and how he had used his wealth to found International Rescue, which he ran with his five sons from their secret island base. They sound a lovely family - just like I always wished I had.  
  
I can hear Tin Tin coming back from the bathroom now - she and I are sharing a room - so I'd better stop..  
  
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This is probably the last recording I'll make on this machine. I'm going to keep the discs though, as a record of this time. I've just got a few minutes to myself while Scott and Tin Tin are making arrangements for us to go to the airport, from where we'll fly back to their base.  
  
I couldn't sleep last night. After so long in the dark I suppose I'm too used to listening to all the background noises of the hospital - every little sound had me alert. I could hear Tin Tin's slow breathing from the other bed, but after several hours of lying awake I got up to go to the bathroom. Across the living room I could see a light on under Scott's door, so I went over and tapped on the door. He answered and I went in. He was lying on bed, wearing a black T-shirt and shorts, reading some kind of aircraft magazine. He looked up, concern on his face "You can't sleep either?"  
  
"No" I replied, sitting on the side of the bed, "too many strange noises."  
  
He reached out for my hand and brought it to his lips. My hand seemed to move almost of its own accord round his head and stroked the back of his neck. As I did so, I noticed he closed his eyes - had he always done that?  
  
"Are you sure you want to come back with us?" he asked. "You don't think we are rushing things too much?"  
  
"Scott, you saved my life after that crash, you probably saved my sanity when I was in hospital, and if there is one thing in this world I am sure of, it's the fact that I want to be with you." I stroked his neck again. "When I was lying in that hospital bed and I did this I always imagined that I was kissing you."  
  
"Do that once more" he said with a gleam in his eye "and you might have to leave or I won't be able to restrain myself."  
  
Slowly, deliberately I reached out my hand and stroked his neck again, while with the other hand I turned off the light. "Now then, Scott Tracy" I said, "let's see how you manage in the dark."  
  
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End file.
